Snapshots
by WickedSong
Summary: Allegretto had always wondered about his parents with only a picture to remind him of them. Oneshot. AllegrettoxPolka.


**Snapshots**

**By WickedSong**

**Disclaimer : I do not own Eternal Sonata.**

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The memories of his parents were sketchy for Allegretto and the only way he could try to remember them was through the photographs he had been left - snapshots of people he could never remember yet people who he felt connected to for the whole of his life.

His mother had died in childbirth and a year later his father went out somewhere and never came back. Some said he had been viciously mauled by a wild creature and others had speculated he had killed himself - away from his son's innocent face, as if it might stop him. There was only one thing that everyone knew for sure, something which saddened them completely, Allegretto was an orphan, at the small tender age of only one year with only the photographs to remind him of his parents.

Left in the care of the priest in the church, Allegretto was raised by him until he was old enough to care for himself with the streetwise smarts he wouldn't have obtained otherwise.

His parents didn't cross his mind often. He would feel upset for the longest time about them but then feel foolish. These were people he did not know and could not remember, except from the sketchy memories and yet he had such a strong connection to them both.

"What do you remember of my parents?" he once asked the priest at the age of seven, eager as ever to find out something about his past.

"Well, your mother was a lovely woman. She was quite a reserved, shy girl but your father brought out the best in her. They were in love from their teenage years"

So, Allegretto grew with these memories of his parents and eventually he could move past the emptiness because he had finally opened his heart to his friends and someone who he loved and loved him back. He may have seemed so secure but he had never felt unconditional love from a parent - heck, he couldn't even remember what they looked like, let alone know if they had loved him.

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"What were your parents like?" Polka had asked him one night when they had been talking about their pasts. The subject of Allegretto and Beat's theiving had came up. Allegretto sort of flinched and she realised she may have hit a nerve or a subject he didn't like talking about. She quickly spoke out "I'm sorry. If you don't want to speak about it then it's alright"

She was expecting him to change the subject but he didn't. He instead gave a sigh, looked down as if in thought and spoke "I wish I knew what they were like. All I have is what the priest has told me about them and then one photograph. One small photograph to try and figure out more than twenty years of life history about two people each" he looked into his pockets and produced the photograph, which he had been carrying around since before he could remember. There were two people, dancing with joy in their eyes. The woman was tall and had dark brown hair, which went straight down her back.

When looking at the man though Polka had to do a double take and stare from the photograph back to the boy sitting beside her. For the man in the picture looked exactly like Allegretto, of course with the differences but nonetheless the same. Their hair was the same silver-grey colour and the eyes were the same colour and shape.

"You know you look exactly like your..."

"Father. Yeah, I know. I've been told that all the time in Ritardando" he replied finishing her sentence. She gave him the photograph back.

"Is that why you dislike photographs? Because they only capture one moment in time instead of what you could feel for yourself?" Polka asked with a riddled expression.

Allegretto was surprised by how well she knew him. She knew him almost better than himself. He had never told Beat why he had hated his photographs and picture-taking hobby. He felt it would discourage his young friend from doing what he loved "I guess so. We should experience everything for ourselves. Everything we could remember should be through our own senses and memories, not stupid snapshots of a life someone once had. I mean, what does this stupid thing tell me" he was about to rip the picture up but he couldn't. A force stopped him. Polka squeezed on his arm.

"I don't think you want to do that. It won't bring your mother or your father back" she told him "And this tells you that they were happy. That they loved each other and they probably loved you"

"They didn't even know me"

"Yes, but they loved you" Polka smiled at him as he gave a smile back. He took a little look at the picture again and he saw the beauty in it this time.

His parents would never be replaced and he would never know every little thing about them but at least the photograph took him one step forward to finding out something as simple as what they looked like.

Finally he saw Beat's fascination with the small pieces of paper - what they represented were the memories of a wonderful - no two wonderful lives.

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**I had this on my netbook half-finished for a while and last night I finally finished. I like the second half of the piece more than the first part.**

**Hope you enjoy.**

**WickedSong x**


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